


Jaskier Falls Into a Bramble Bush and Gets Owies

by taylor_tut



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: this is literally nothing. it’s less than 500 words and nothing happens. it’s not angsty or fluffy or anything at all. i didn’t enjoy it and neither will you. it be like that sometimes
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Jaskier Falls Into a Bramble Bush and Gets Owies

"Jaskier, stop squirming," Geralt barked. "You're driving them in deeper." 

"You're driving them in deeper!" Jaskier squawked, his voice shrill with equal parts pain and irritation. He'd stumbled off the beaten path while they'd been looking for something to eat, surviving a fall down a small cliff that Geralt thought might kill him only to stand up, unharmed, and trip directly into a thornbush. 

"Because you're squirming," Geralt snapped. "Be still." Jaskier tried his best, but in his defense, the thorns weren't any small injury—not deadly, sure, but they were deep, and there were so, so many of them. 

Geralt had graceully slid down the hill himself to get to Jaskier's side, then had to remove thorns from his left thigh and, he'll be honest, his ass, for a good several minutes before Jaskier could even sit down in the dirt to work on the rest. They were covering the entire left side of his body, the worst of it being in his arm, which had been bare due to the hot day, and his face. 

"You're lucky you didn't lose an eye," Geralt muttered as he plucked another thorny branch from Jaskier's cheek, eliciting a hiss of pain. 

"Lucky, just the word I was going to choose," Jaskier quipped back. "Don't you have some sort of potion or something that might knock me unconscious while you remove these?" 

"Yes," he replied, watching hope ignite and then die in Jaskier's eyes when he followed it with, "so long as you don't mind that you won't wake up."

"That was—ow!—that was cruel," Jaskier whined. Geralt shrugged and, in one quick motion, pulled the last remaining bramble from Jaskier's scalp. 

"Now there's just the arm to work on," he said. Though Jaskier's face didn't betray a thing, his complexion paled a shade in dread. He tensed in preparation, clearly ready for Geralt to begin mercilessly ripping the thorns from his skin once more, but instead, he reached for the waterskin and passed it to Jaskier. "Drink," he commanded. "You're sweating."

Jaskier nodded, downing several mouthfuls of water before handing it back to Geralt with his good hand. 

"This is terrible," he complained, earnestly enough this time that Geralt couldn't help but feel bad. 

"You're almost finished."

"That's what you said when you started on my face," he pointed out. Well, he couldn't argue that. 

"If I thought there was a less painful way," he trailed off, and Jaskier brushed him off with an irritable wave of his arm. 

"I know," he curtailed; "I know." Setting his posture once more, he steeled himself for more pain. "I'm ready." 

"Hmm." 

"Ow!"

It was going to be a long afternoon. 


End file.
